Aloneness
by trufflemores
Summary: 5x20, "The Untitled Rachel Berry Project" reaction fic. Dates back more to New, New York where Kurt and Blaine didn't have any alone time, leading to a fallout that eventually lead to Blaine moving out. Klaine. COMPLETE.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

It was no secret Kurt loved to read and Blaine loved to lounge on any available surface and watch him.

Rachel thought it was adorable and Santana thought it was appalling, but Blaine didn't care about their opinions because Kurt was so _beautiful,_ and he was never more mystic than when he canted an upright leg and propped a book against it, reading for hours uninterrupted. He devoured books, reading two or three a week and outpacing Blaine's plodding once-a-month quota easily. There was something fascinating about Kurt's dedication to it, how he absorbed history and politics and economics with the same level of interest as fashion and the arts and even, to a lesser extent, children's literature.

He'd grown in New York in so many different ways over the course of a year, but there was nothing that had expanded more than his love for books and magazines and any other piece of literature he could get his hands on.

It got to the point where Blaine could fall asleep at his feet and Kurt would still be reading when he awoke, an oddly comfortably fact in a woozy post-nap world. Blaine didn't mind that Kurt didn't always focus on him; he liked having the time to himself, to do his own laundry, to sort his things, to catch up on work, and even, if he was quiet, to listen to music as he cooked without worrying about jarring Kurt from his studies. They both needed time to relax, to be themselves away from everyone else, and Blaine's preferred method was boxing or cooking, and Kurt's was designing or reading.

They loved to take walks together, to pick up groceries together, and to generally spend time in each other's corners, but there was a limit on how much shared proximity they could take before the longing for a room with four walls and a locked door became an _ache._

It had taken them the better part of six months living together in New York before they had realized that Kurt needed more alone time than Blaine did, even if it would take another month before they identified _that _as the problem.

The panic at how out of sync they had felt after those first few months had dissipated once they had come together again and to realize that maybe separation would be a good thing for them. They had needed space and time to think about things without feeling crowded, and even though it had left a lump in Blaine's throat for _weeks _to move out, to abandon what they'd set up in favor of a new life ("We're not going backwards," he'd insisted, willing the words to be true), it had been right for them.

Because they learned that distance was a good thing, distance was a chance to grow.

And distance meant that books were a part of their lives as much as sheet music. They needed both reasons to be together (their common interests, their friends, their daily routines) and reasons to be apart (their differences, their coworkers, their dreams).

It had still been difficult at first, figuring out how much time together was too much time and where the lines were drawn. The solution was surprisingly simple: Kurt needed quiet time to de-stress, but he didn't mind if Blaine was curled up against him or in the same room idling around _while _he was de-stressing.

Blaine had been watching Kurt read for a while, feigning interest in the magazine spread halfheartedly over his own lap, one hand holding his head up as he dozed. He'd had his elbow propped on the couch arm for a while now, and the city noise was almost pleasant, a hushed, rainy backdrop providing the perfect setup for a lazy evening in.

Rapt in his own studies, Kurt didn't even flinch when Blaine finally conceded, setting the magazine aside and scooting closer to him. He was already wearing one of his old Dalton hoodies that had just the right level of cushiony warmth to pillow him against Kurt's propped-up legs. Hooking his own legs over the arm of the couch, he rested his head on Kurt's feet, hood acting as a makeshift pillow as he stared at the ceiling and listened to Kurt slowly turning pages.

He didn't know when he dozed off, exactly, but he snuffled once in surprise when he awoke. "Kurt?" he asked, the word dragged out on a yawn as he shuffled upright.

"Shh, sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Kurt said, sounding genuinely apologetic as he shifted his legs around. "They were falling asleep."

"Oh." Blaine reached up to rub the back of his neck, aware that his curls were probably horribly disarrayed as he said in his sleep-rumbly voice, "I might go lie down for a bit. S'a good nap."

"Want some company?" Kurt asked, a wry edge to his smile, and God, Blaine _ached _with love for him.

And that was how they ended up sprawled out on the bed together as the storm continued to rain down on their apartment, Blaine hugging Kurt's stomach while Kurt alternated between reading his book and petting Blaine's hair.

All in all, imperfect though they would always be and inevitably though future fights were, Blaine couldn't imagine a better arrangement or a happier companion to sit with and enjoy the silence.


End file.
